


Sleepy Kids

by SaudadeRaspberry



Category: Slumber Bunnies
Genre: Canon, Drabble Collection, Lore - Freeform, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaudadeRaspberry/pseuds/SaudadeRaspberry
Summary: A series of drabbles and lore regarding my work Slumber Bunnies (of which you can find on wattpad!)
Comments: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just me pouring creativity onto the screen :)

Okay so this first chapter explains the rules of Dreamscape! Read this if you haven’t read the book Slumber Bunnies on Wattpad, so if your just reading Sleepy Kids for fun, you’ll understand the world :D

WORLD MAKEUP:

Dreamscape is the metaphysical plane where people (and animals) go when they sleep/dream.  
In dreamscape, people can connect to each other through their minds, similar to how people connect online. Think Roblox!  
Dreamscape is a whole platform made up of the dreams of dead people, so when you die, your dreams from the Canvas gravitate to Dreamscape and will appear as a place there.  
The Canvas is a place of your personal dreams, imagine individual dreams are like little platforms, connecting to each other with ladders and bridges, this is the makeup of the Canvas.  
Unlike the canvas, Dreamscape is a whole landscape, not a series of tied-together-fragments.  
In every Canvas exists a sort of pocket realm, or inventory, where if you find something you’de like to keep in Dreamscape, you can “pocket” it, transferring it to your “inventory”, which is a pocket realm you can enter and exit as you please. Usually, the easiest way to enter you pocket realm from Dreamscape is by opening your bag, which can be any sort of bag, and diving in, which leads to your horde, an accumulation of stuff you keep in the pocket realm.

RULES OF TRAVEL:

So you may be wondering, “how does one hop from dreamscape to canvas and back?”  
Well, the answer is simple.  
Memory based teleportation.  
When you travel around dreamscape, you can establish connections via force of will with the land, giving you the ability, if powerful enough, to teleport there. You can also teleport people you’ve established connections with, such as friends, acquaintances, siblings, and family.  
So lets say Finley wants to teleport Sodapie to a carnival in Dreamscape, one of which sodapie had never been to. They would hold make contact, and Finley would teleport them there. Now that Sodapie has been to said carnival, they should be able to teleport there by themselves. Of course, they could’ve gone there by traveling by foot, but to find it would’ve taken forever :)

DUALIZATION

This is the process of coalescing minds, or fusing them. In this state, people can fuse their minds and become a greater whole. I didn’t get this idea from Steven Universe, I swear :’(  
(I actually got it from my childhood video game, nIGHTS: Journey of Dreams, and no, nIGHTS is not a typo)  
Doing this, they can share dreams, memories, and emotions, and LIKE in Steven universe, it can be a forced process.  
Forcing someone to dualize is similar to rape in Dreamscape, and one can be severely punished for such an offense.

NPC or NDC (NON-DREAMER-CHARACTERS)

These are characters you may meet within a dream that are not dreamers. You cant tell dreamers apart from NDCs, as they both have minds and wills of their own. NDCs are often discriminated against, the excuse being that they’re not really real. The truth is, they’re more part of Dreamscape than the dreamers themselves, as they feel pain and emotion, unlike some dreamers like Finley, who don’t feel pain in Dreamscape.  
Some physicists even say that Dreamscape is a world of its own, and that Dreamers are just people who get caught up in it, similar to how bugs can get caught in a spiders web without realizing it. Some even say dreamers are sub consciously drawn to it.  
It is not uncommon for Dreamers to become good friends and companions with NDCs within the Canvas.  
For NDCs, the skies the limit, they’re like randomly generated Original Characters.  
NDCs are NOT immortals, but if the dreamer happens to dream of an NDC who IS immortal, then that NDC is immortal.  
In slumber bunnies, Great Black is a great white shark (except his skin-scales-whatever are pitch black, hence the name) that Finley dreamt of as an initial Nightmare when they where a toddler. As Finley grew older, Great Black became more of a guide or a symbolic being.

CATACLYSTS

Cataclysts are Dreamers who suffer in the real world. Let’s say some random kid, Tommy, has severe depression. When he enters the Dreamscape, there’s a possibility he will become a Cataclyst, a Nightmare that wreaks havoc on Dreamscape and its inhabitants. Tommys Nightmarish form will look similar to how he feels on the inside, with symbolic characterizations showing up in the design. All his deepest fears and worried will come to the surface, literally.

QUESTIONS?

So that’s about it, I might add more if I see necessary, but as far as the rules go, you’re good and will should pass a general trivia test :)  
Ask me questions in the comments below :D

Here’s my YT channel where I do animation memes regarding Slumber Bunnies!

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCsLUmow0wuJC-LvPveE6SNA


	2. We Think Therefore We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two lifelong friends finally realize they’re NDCs after their best friend passes away.

I gripped Kierans hand as hard as I could.  
I clung to it like a lifeline.  
“Ian?”   
“...yeah?”  
“Are you ok?” He asked.  
I looked at him, wide eyed and terrified, “How could I possibly be fine?” I whispered, staring at the void beyond. We watched as the rest of our world it stitched itself back together, as if desperately trying to hide the abyss from us.  
“I don’t see much of a problem.” He shrugged, lifting his mask up to scratch his cheek. It was a white dome shaped one, with four Xs going across where his eyes would be. His classic red devils tail lashed back and forth, as he moved his hand up from his face to unconsciously finger his matching set of devils horns.  
I shook his hand away and gestured at the fragments of the world building themselves back together, at the abyss, at the rest of the vapor wave landscape behind us, “HOW IS THIS NOT A PROBLEM?” I yelled.  
“Well, fifteen minutes ago, we thought it was the end of the world,” he said calmly, turning to face me and pushing my arms down, “and it turned out,” he smiled, “that the world just got a lot bigger.”  
I frowned, before reaching out and brushing locks of his blonde hair from olive green eyes. It was a work of habit, he’d always let me do that, ever since we where in preschool.  
“And a lot weirder...” I murmured, gazing passed him and at the colossal cans of Arizona Green Tea effortlessly floating through the sky.   
“Ian,” he began, “this may not be the change you where expecting when your parents told you that you could drink,” he sighed, “but it’s still pretty damned cool.”  
I paused before replying, “It would be a lot cooler if Peter where here.”  
Kierans gaze shifted from me to the ground, “I’ll...” he paused, “I’ll really miss him.”  
I put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. We stayed like that for awhile before he pulled away and stared into the middle distance. It was his thinking face.  
“Who knew our best friend,” I began, trying to lighten the mood, “thought up of this?” I said, gesturing at the world we belonged to.  
“Yeah...” Kieran laughed, “...he was always the creative one.”  
“Gingers.” I snorted.  
Kieran snickered at the long standing inside joke.  
I turned to the world behind us, the one that ours was attaching itself to. What was it that talking bird told us it was called?  
“Dreamscape...” I trailed off, staring at the vapor wave aesthetic world behind us.  
It looked like something from a Glass Animals album cover.  
“Even if our best friend did just imagine us,” Kieran said thoughtfully, “as long as we have each other, we’re as real as it gets.”  
I fiddled with my earring, stopped myself before I began overthinking (like I knew I would), brushed some dirt form my sweater and grabbed Kierans hand, “I guess you’re right.”  
He smiled fondly before he squeezed my hand.  
That was all the reassurance I needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn’t it bromantic?


	3. Imaginary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huxley makes friends with a monster.

When I woke up, my room looked very different.  
The wooden floors looked refurbished and shiny, and the walls where a different color, and not to mention how bright my light was. In fact, I don't think it was my room.  
I gasped as I heard footsteps coming up the stairs in the hallway. I panicked for a brief moment, before I slid from the warm blankets and under the bed, where I pressed myself against the floor. I peered out from under the bed and watched as two notably small feet padded their way from the door, set down a bag, and sat next to a trunk at the foot of the bed.  
I shuffled away from the creature and against the wall at the head of the bed.  
‘What is that thing?’ I thought, staring at the lower half of its back from under the bed.  
The monster opened the trunk and wrought two small figures from it, set them on the floor, and turned to a shelf to grab a box of wooden blocks.  
‘What’s it doing?’  
I glanced at the figures and noticed how lifelike they looked, one with the facial features of a young woman and the other with that of a young man.  
The monster built a few blocks into what seemed to be a building, grabbed the two figures and held them above the blocks, speaking in a whispered foreign tongue.  
‘Is this a sort of dark magick?’ I pondered, wondering if my stomach was dropping because I was hungry or scared.  
I stayed under the bed until a voice that spoke the same foreign language called, haling the monster from the room and back downstairs. I pushed my foot against the wall to propel myself out from under the bed. I casted a glance at the dolls, and realized that they where just that.  
Dolls.  
I picked one of them up and bent its arm, “It’s articulated...” I mumbled in fascination.  
I bent its knees into a sitting position and placed it’d hands into its lap before I set it back down on a wooden block. It sat still, poised, without falling over.  
“Very petite, madame.” I murmured to the dolls before wandering the room.  
I opened the trunk, to find toys, stuffed animals, and trinkets.  
“Is the monster just a child?” I said to myself, cradling a small dog plushie in my hands.  
Peering at the shelf on the far side of the room, I could see small golden trophies and medals, one of which I plucked from the shelf to realize it wasn’t really gold per say, but a strangely light material that sounded quite hollow.  
I stared at the child’s drawings, depictions of flowers, scribbles, and various animals. They where drawn in whimsical colors, such as deep purples and shining yellows, hot reds and cool blues.  
I got down on all fours and sniffed at the daisy yellow rug at the center of the room.  
I rolled over and rubbed my back into the soft twirls of yarn, sighed, and relaxed.  
“Doyle and Abaddon aren’t going to believe a word when I tell them about this.” I sighed.  
I licked my maw, wondering if I could ask the child if I could take its box of color sticks.  
I gazed out the window, and noticed that the sun was setting.  
I got that feeling you get when you feel someone looking at you, so I slowly turned my head as a small creature, maybe four feet tall, with short dark hair that curled wildly around its face, stared at me.  
I froze, unsure about what to do.  
It stepped forwards, making me scramble from my back and onto my feet.  
“Uh... hi?” I said, waving awkwardly at it.  
It giggled, and I realized he was a boy, a little boy, and sounded much like my younger brother Doyle.  
He rushed to a shelf, rummaged through a box and pulled out a hot pink folder. He sat on the carpet next to me, opened the folder and began to sift through many, many drawings. He selected one and held it up to me, thrusting it into my chest.  
I took it, and stared at the creature on the page.  
It looked like an upright kangaroo with a dholes head. The creature had rust-red fur, speckled with black patches, it had navy blue eyes. Small black horns began at the end of its nose, getting longer, and more spread out, stoping at its lower back like a porcupine.  
It was a picture of me.  
He looked at me with eager eyes, ran to his bed and pulled a dream catcher from the frame of the bed, of which he showed me.  
“You’re one of those lucid dreamers, aren’t you?” I asked, taking the dream catcher in my claws.  
He nodded, and sat next to me. He picked up his pink folder and laid all his pictures down on the rug.  
He pointed at a depiction of Keres, “Drew her yesterday.”  
“I see,” I murmured, plucking a picture of Abbadon from the pile, “Yes, I think I understand now,” I said, putting it back, “but how on Earth does a child such as you imagine ‘monsters’ like us?”  
He frowned and opened his mouth before quickly shutting it.  
“You don’t talk much, do you?” I said, trying to smooth his wild hair down.  
A crashing sound and yelling came from downstairs, making both of us wince.  
We listened to a dispute coming from downstairs, despite me not being able to understand. They sounded older, and very, very mad. Someone stomped away, leaving us in silence.  
We where both quiet until he bowed his head and whispered in my language, “Ma an’ Pa don't like it when I talk.”  
“Why not?” Is asked.  
“They don’t love me very much.” He said, fingering the folders edge.  
“Of course they do,” I said, gesturing at his toy trunk, “why else would they get you all these toys?”  
“Those are birthday presents form my friends at school,” he said, taking the pictures of my family and stuffing them back into the folder.  
I noticed the picture of Keres had a date scrawled on the back, 2/19/05.  
“Well, take it from me, things will get better,” I said, leaning back on my haunches, “Abbadon and I weren’t too close until Doyle made us go on a date, and by not too close I mean by hated each other,” I said, “He was kind of a prick.”  
“You’re not that nice yourself, Huxley.” He giggled.  
“I’ve been plenty nice to you!”  
“You put leeches on Doyle while he slept!” He exclaimed, “I saw that while dreaming!”  
“Well DOYLE was being a BITCH.”  
The kids eyes widened, “Language!”  
“Sure, sorry,” I mumbled setting my chin on my hands, “What’s your name anyways?”  
“Oh, I’m Damien.”  
“Damien...” I repeated, committing the name to memory, “be sure to visit us in the Canvas next time, alright?” I said, tilting my head to give him a level gaze, “Promise?”  
He nodded, “pinky swear.”  
I held out my smallest claw, and he hooked his pinky around the tip of my talon.  
“I’ll see you around, but now that its night, I should be going before Abbadon tears down the house looking for me.” I said, getting up and stretching out, “how do I get back anyways?”  
He turned the light off and jumped into bed.  
He pulled the covers up, giving me a weary smile too tired for an eight year old, “I’ll see you and Keres and Abbadon and Doyle tonight.” He said groggily.  
I stared at my claws and realized I was fading, “So this is how imaginary friends work.” I joked.  
“You’re not imaginary,” Damien yawned, “this just isn’t your world.”  
I smirked, pretending to pat his back, “You’re a smart kid.” I said, before fading back into my world.


	4. Imaginary pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huxley calms his worried boyfriend.

I found myself standing outside the gates of the manor, my home.  
The manor was an old Victorian mansion, the once yellow paint faded and chipping away. Grey shingles occasionally fell from the roof, and nearly all of it was engulfed in vines and plant life.  
The garden in front looked like an classic movie set, but everything was overgrown and untamed. The fountain had ceased flow far before Doyle, Keres, and I arrived.  
Abbadons familiarly huge figure strode back and forth on the deck of the mansion.  
I strode through the gates of the property and walked along the cobblestone path leading to the front.  
Abbadon perked up and jerked his head towards me, “Hux!” He yelled, rushing from the steps and gathering me in his arms.  
I hugged him back, digging my nose into his grey fur.  
Abbadon was ten feet tall, I know this because he’s exactly one foot taller than me, he has grey fur that fades darker at his feet, long sharp fangs, and an eyelash vipers tail. Golden flecks of scales where scattered along his elbows and neck, I had always noticed how they shone in sunlight. Okay so really tall werewolf with snake tail, how dreamy.  
“Fuck!” He yelled suddenly, shaking me in his grasp, “You where gone for three days!” He said, pulling away and glaring at me, “Where were you?”  
“Hanging out with a little kid who really like to draw.” I said honestly.  
Abbadon blinked at me, “For three days.” He said slowly.  
“Yes.”  
He searched my eyes for the tiniest hint of a lie.  
You see, when we first got together, I was usually pretty problematic with lying about feelings and things I do when I’m sad but that’s a whole other can of worms I don't want to open right now.  
“Huh,” he said, leaning forwards, “You’re not lying.”  
I pulled him down and pecked him on the nose, “Nope.”  
He jerked himself upright, and placed his hand on my forearms, “Who was the kid?”  
“He’ll be here soon, just gotta wait awhile.”  
He gave me a sometimes-I-wonder-how-we-have-a-stable-relationship-look and pushed me up the steps and into the mansion, “Fine, at least tell me about him.”  
“Well,” I began as we went through the door, “he’s seven or eight, African American heritage, loves drawing us, and is the lucid dreamer who came up with this world.”  
“Really?” He said, stopping halfway up the stone stairs to our room, “You met our dreamer?”  
“Yeah, he’s a super sweet kid.”  
“That’s kind of surprising, considering how.... how rough we are.” He scratched his chin.  
“Well he comes from a rough place.” I shrugged, thinking back to his fighting parents.  
“Speaking of rough around the edges, I sent Keres and Doyle out to look for you after I tried, but they told me they got tired and went to town,” he sighed, “sometimes I think I could strangle those two.”  
“My siblings are so predictable,” I said with a roll of my eyes, “Hey could we grab something to eat?” I asked, “I’m starving.”  
I trotted behind Abbadon until we got to the living room (which was genuinely big enough to count as a house on its own), where he looked at me, pointed at the couch and went to the kitchen, “I’ll be right back.” He called.  
I stared after him, smiled, and flopped backwards onto the enormous and well-worn couch. I sighed and sunk into the pillows, most of which where torn and threading.  
We may not live a very glamorous life, but we all learned a long time ago that all we needed was each other to get by, and so far, we’ve all been content with just that.  
I stared at the fallen chandelier and smirked. Awhile ago it had fallen while we where eating leftovers, right on top of Keres. It took Abbadon, Doyle, and I to lift the massive thing and move it into the corner of the room, where it had sat gathering dust and vines. Keres frequently kicked and glared at it, as the glass crystals it was draped in had scarred her back up pretty badly.   
In the process, Keres was kicking and screaming insults, not because she was wounded but because she had dropped her food.  
My families pretty great.  
Abbadon walked in with a tray of food and set it down at the coffee table, “Here, we got it from the market awhile ago,” he mumbled, sitting next to me, “phyreen meat.”  
“Don’t you mean you got this from the black market?” I gawked, staring at the endangered meat-plant.  
The Phyreen where a type of plant that was more or less carnivorous, using the mass of whatever they ate to produce actual meats inside their watermelon shaped shells. The distributing and selling of these plants where beyond illegal in our world, not because they produced meat but because monsters like me and my family liked to eat them, and most humans didn’t like us, so they took away our only source of meat (without killing something) in hopes of making it a little harder to survive.  
I had never tasted it before, as that law was passed before I, and everyone else in the era, was born.  
I plucked a piece off, chewed it, and nearly fainted.  
“Wha..aaa??” I drawled, “this is what real meat actually tastes like?” I asked, ripping off more and chowing down.  
“Apparently, I had to hide it so Doyle would stop eating it,” he sighed exhaustedly, “but this is only a portion of what was auctioned off.” He said, his tone becoming smug.  
My eyes widened, “Don’t tell me you bought this.”  
“Oh no, I didn’t buy it,” he said, “I stole it.”  
I chewed on the plant-meat and stared at my crazy boyfriend.  
“You stole this from the human black market?”  
“Yuuuup.”   
“Oh my god, you’re perfect,” I cooed, hugging him, “I think I fell in love again.”  
“You’d better, I got shot like, seventeen times in the abdomen.” He said poking me.   
“Must be nice to have super healing.” I yawned.  
“Healing factor.”  
“Whatever.”  
And at some point, I dozed off.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy these drabbles, I hope you grow fond of the characters as I have :))  
> (Comments are appreciated, criticism is appreciated to)


End file.
